Toy Soldiers
by Dexemtra
Summary: WWII. Arthur, Francis, Yao, Matthew, Alfred, Feliks, Ivan, Ludwig, Feliciano, and Kiku. The War through the eyes of the Soldiers. Toys in this War. Toy Soldiers.
1. Toy Soldiers

_**Step by Step**_

_**Heart to heart**_

_**Left, Right, Left**_

_**We all fall**_

_**Down…**_

Arthur fell to his knees again. Did the bombs never stop? His soldiers pulled him into their ranks, quickly taking him to a medic. The needle barley hurt next to pulsating agony of the blast. His body was covered with these scars now. Since he'd been involved in the war Lud- No, Germany, had bombed him non-stop. Arthur lost the fight with consciousness.

_**Step by Step**_

Francis ran through the war-torn streets of Ardennes, looking for his soldiers. He splashed through a couple of dirty puddles; rounding a corner he saw advancing German soldiers. They opened fire as he turned and ran in the other direction. Fuck, these Germans were going to be the end of him. Japanese forces stopped him at another corner. He'd been fighting a hard fight for six-weeks, and he was growing weaker by the minute. He didn't know how much he could take, or for how much longer. There were forces at the Maginot line, and were close to taking it. A great tear forced him to his knees.

"France may have lost the Battle, but France has not lost the war. Vichy France is under Axis occupation; we work as _La France Libre_!"

_**Heart to Heart**_

_**Left, Right, Left**_

After a month of fighting, Feliks fell to the Germans. Tired but war-hungry, Feliks recreated his army in the West. He now fought on air, land and sea. He fought hard, and with a price. Ghastly gashes covered his midsection from where he was fighting himself as much as the Germans. Damn their occupation! Sky dark, Feliks ran way ahead of his infantry and into the occupied sector. Rounding a corner he fired at some unsuspecting German and Italian soldiers. They had numbers and speed over him, however. Racing away, Feliks took a bullet to his shoulder. Crying out, he fell, crawling to get away. He drug himself into an alley, trying to locate his own soldiers. Luckily one of them found him and helped him back to the medic tent.

_**We all fall Down**_

_**Like Toy Soldiers…**_

Ivan fought long, and Ivan fought hard, this war was taking a lot out of him, and he knew he'd carry this scar forever. Running through the streets of the so named 'Eastern front' Ivan had to worry about _both_ the German and Finnish forces. Creeping through alleys, a large gash opened on his side. Damn! The Japanese! Growling he ran through the snow and tried to locate his soldiers. Rounding a corner he saw a friendly face.

"You're a zight for zore eyes."

"Thought you might say that, here are your supplies. They're being air-dropped to your military base, perhaps you should get back there?"

"Like hell, I hef to fint my battalion. Got separated by Finnish fire."

"Oh, well, I guess I see you later, Ivan."

"Zame to you, Alfred." Alfred signaled up and a rope ladder dropped down. As Alfred airlifted out, Ivan ran towards where he thought he heard gunfire. Though it seemed he even heard gunfire in his sleep these days. He burst in upon the scene.

"Blin!" Well, he'd found his battalion, time to fight with them!

_**Bit by Bit**_

_**Torn Apart**_

Yao panted; this was too much excitement for an old man. He chuckled to himself, old man? He didn't look any older than any of the other recruits. His own brother was attacking him, he'd already taken Taiwan and Philippines, and was working on taking him, the mainland. Alfred's flying tigers weren't due for two more weeks, and that might be two weeks too long. He'd never expected the first attack, but he became more jaded as time passed. He already carried poorly healing cuts, he knew more were on their way.

"You can't win, Yao!"

"I can keep from dying at _your_ hands!"

"Everyone dies, Yao, there's a soldier out here, somewhere, carrying the bullet for you."

"You'll never take me, Kiku!"

"Brave words for an old man."

"Damn right." Yao fired at his brother before retreating to his camp, where Kiku could not follow.

_**We Never Win**_

Matthew ducked into a trench as a grenade blast went over his head. God, how he hated war. Here he was, with his soldiers, dying in a foreign land. His casualties were becoming greater and greater by the day, no, by the hour! It had built his navy and his air force, but they were caught up in meeting Italian and Japanese forces in the air and on the sea. German forces were battering him on the ground. An Italian soldier threw a grenade into his trench. Fuck. He scrambled out as fast he could rolling over god-knows-what and into another trench as the explosion rocked him. A woman screamed, apparently one of his had not been quick enough. He rushed back over. The woman, if she could be called that now, was little more than a screaming upper half, covered in her own blood. She grabbed at Matthew's uniform, calling out to someone she knew, seeing someone only she could see.

"_Mon cher, je suis désolé._" Yet another to be buried here, instead of her home. It reminded him of a saying from his and Alfred's Revolutionary days: _When you can't walk, you crawl._

_**But the Battle **_

Alfred winced against the pain of his wound. It was the wound that'd gotten him into this war, Pearl Harbor. He remembered the brutal attack; he was a neutral country until then, now he was involved. He supplied Ivan, was sending Yao Flying Tigers, and was fighting against the German forces on the ground, Italian in the sky, and Japanese on the sea. He was in some god-forsaken trench, exchanging grenades and gunfire with the enemy. He let loose rounds, and was suddenly caught by few, unable to get down fast enough. Shit, that hurt!

"Jones! You okay?"

"No, I'm hit!"

"Get him the fuck outta there, and to a medic!" His own soldiers grabbed him, carrying him away, clutching his chest.

"Give it up Alfred!" A mocking Italian voice followed him as he lost the fight with conciseness. _And when you can't do that, You find someone to carry you._

_**Rages on**_

Ludwig smiled sitting next to his two best friends, Kiku and Feliciano. The dark of war shone in his eyes, reflected in Feliciano's and Kiku's as well. They had puppet states, friends in fighting, collaborator states, and controversial allies. Hungary, Romania, Bulgaria, Finland, Iraq, Thailand, San Marino, Yugoslavia, India, Argentina, Denmark, Norway, Spain, Sweden. The states: Manchuko, Mengjiang, Philippines, Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, Burma, Montenegro, Slovakia (Tiso regime), Serbia (Nedic regime), Albania, Vardar Macedonia, Independent State of Croatia, Pindus, and the Vichy regime of France. He didn't bother with human names, when he made a better world _then_ he would bother with names. When they were through, the world would turn on a new Axis, on the Axis Powers.

_**For Toy Soldiers**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's note: <strong>_Wow, that was kinda dark...^^'. Well, it's supposed to be, this fic will go through WWII and to the resolution. And if i get enough reviews, it will go on to the Cold War as well. Thanks and Review!

Translations:

_La France Libre! - (French) Free France, this was established after the Germans took Vichy France_

_Blin! - (Russian) Fuck!_

__Mon cher, je suis désolé - (Canadian-French) My dear, I'm sorry__

**_Song: Toy Soldiers by Eminem  
><em>**


	2. Songbirds Die like the rest

He ran out of ammo and dropped the machine gun. He ducked behind a wall as soldiers rushed in upon him, he whipped out his hand gun, a little Colt 45, him and this gun had been through a lot together, and gotten out of more trouble than England had ever gotten into. The thought made America smile, he whipped around the corner and fired on the soldiers while pushing farther into German territory. A bullet whizzed past his ear as another caught his arm.

"Ah! Damn it." He turned the corner around a building, black from the war; leaning against its smudged exterior. He checked his wound; Through-and-through. Well, that's relieving. Even though a thousand human bullets couldn't kill him, when a bullet got stuck it was a huge pain in the ass. America raked his sky-blue eyes over the war-torn square he'd ran into. A little girl sat in the middle of the blackened grass of the center of the square near a huge oak tree, crying. He thought for a moment, looked around, and then ran to her.

"Hey, hey. It's okay. _Sprechen Sie English_?" He said as he tried to comfort her. What was a little girl doing in the middle of a battlefield?

"Ja…Yes, I do. My papa…" she swallowed roughly, "He taught me before…this…" She started to cy again.

"Hey, it's gonna be fine. What's your papa's name?"

"It does not matter now, does it? He is dead." She said, staring at America flatly. America was taken aback. It was hard to think of the Germans as having little girls at home; little girls who would run into the middle of a war zone to come after them. America saw why the girl had been crying; the body of a German soldier lay at the foot of the blackened oak that must've been the major nature attraction for this city square.

"C'mon, you can't stay here." America tried to help her up but she snatched her hand away.

"No!" America knew he could just pick her up and go, but for some strange reason, he wanted her trust.

"It's dangerous for you here."

"What do you care? It is dangerous for you, too. Is it not?" That struck America, why _did_ he care? She _was_ German, after all. Why shouldn't he just leave her here; The Germans wouldn't kill one of their own, would they?

"Because this fight isn't yours."

"Your kind killed my father! How is it _not_ my fight?!" America shook his head.

"You're a kid, I'm sorry your dad died, but this war isn't my fault or your fault. I know its not fair, but there's nothing you accomplish dead, okay?" She sniffed, America looked around, it had to be like 30 degrees outside and this little girl was still in her school clothes, a skirt and dress shirt with no coat. America unbuttoned his jacket and draped it over her.

"Vhat? Vhy would yo—?" America cut her off.

"You'll freeze out here, let me take you home. C'mon." She sniffed and nodded at his words, pulling the bomber jacket around herself.

"Okay." She replied quietly. America picked her up, she laid her head on his shoulder with her knees up against her chest, pressed into his so that the jacket covered everything except from her nose up. He looked around for a safe way out and took the alleyway nearest to him. He knew instinctively where Germany was and ran towards his location

"_Alfred! Wot the 'ell are you doing?!"_ Arthur's voice crackled over the radio.

"Something I need to do." He replied. "Over and out." The girl fell asleep, obviously tired from crying.

England put down his radio and looked at France.

"What did 'e say, _Mon cher_?"

"He said he had something he had to do. And he's heading towards Ludwig." France looked concerned; he didn't want England to get out of bed. England was in the medic's tent because of the bombings that were happening; Huge gashes covered most of England's body, and he was in no shape to run out after America.

"Wot do we do?"

"Notzing." England looked at him disbelievingly.

"Wot?!" England tried to sit up but France pushed him back down; England struggling, of course.

" 'E is a big boy now, if 'e needs 'elp, 'e will ask for it, _Cherie_. You need to rest." England stopped trying to fight and sighed.

"I guess you're right." France opened England's shirt and started to change his wound dressings. France was concerned with what he saw; the wounds weren't healing well. With daily bombings, England was only getting worse; he'd fought out with his troops, hiding the wounds until he'd literally dropped. France had been furious, but there was no way to move him until next week, and the rough military medic's tent wasn't enough.

"Oh, _mon cher_, please be okay."

America was wary as he entered the calm battlefield Germany had taken earlier. The little dark-haired girl was sleeping peacefully on his chest as every muscle in America's body was taut, tense at the thought of being caught unaware. America realized he hadn't thought this far into getting the girl into a safe environment i.e. with Germany; He didn't actually think he'd get this far, sneaking into a courtyard Germany had control over and was currently occupying. America wished he'd honed his skill to pinpoint the exact location of other countries.

"_Hallo_, America." The cold voice of Germany sounded in front of America.

"I'm not here to fight." Germany was obscured from view by a stack of boxes, he leisurely walked around it and then leaned on it, smoking nonchalantly.

"Really, Vhat's under jour jacket?" He said, pointing to it and extinguishing his cigarette.

"That's why I'm here." He pulled the jacket down to reveal the little girl's head.

"Vhat?! Jou brought a chilt into a var zone?!"

"No! I found her in the war zone, grieving the loss of her father. A German soldier." Germany's eyes, for the first time since the beginning of the war, lightened from the dark blue they'd turned when he heard this.

"She ran into a var zone to mourn her father…"

"All I'm doing here is bringing her to you, so she can be safe. I swear, no tricks." America gently woke the little girl up.

"_Was_? Oh, it is you. Where are we?" She caught sight of Germany. "Who is he?" She whispered, clutching America's shirt.

"This is…His name is Ludwig, He's Germany. You'll be safe with him." Germany felt a sense of inadequacy as the child turned her bright-eyed stare on him. The young eyes were filled with loss and grief and hope that this was finally the end of her suffering. He held out shaking arms to receive the girl; America gently placed her in Germany's waiting arms.

"So jour name is Ludwig?" Germany smiled at the question.

"_Ja_, it is. Vhat's jour name?"

"Ravënjuay; My papa calls…Called me songbird for short." That reminded Germany of his brother, Prussia.

"Jou vill be safe here, Ravënjuay, I promise." She rested her head on Germany's chest.

"I'm going to go…" America said, she popped her head up.

"Do jou have to?" America nodded and as he opened his mouth to speak, a gunshot rang across the courtyard; Ravënjuay didn't even have time to scream. Germany fell to his knees as she slumped over in his arms. America sank down in front of him, clutching her limp shoulders. A drop of blood ran down her temple and down the side of her face, again and again, there was something wrong; she had a hole in her head. Her beautiful golden-brown eyes dulled and closed for the last time. America shook her slightly, she didn't respond in his jacket, his jacket now covered in her blood. Italy walked over, smoking gun in his hands.

"Italy…why would you—?!" America was cut off by Italy.

"Jew. We started this war this way, I can't have you getting soft, Germany." He said coldly, his brown eyes icy. Germany pushed away from America and beautiful, lifeless Ravënjuay and confronted Italy.

"Her father vas a German soldier, nod a Jew!" He screamed.

"She is just another human, don't forget our mission. You, Ally, get out of here before I shoot you, too." America picked up his bomber jacket with a dark rage boiling in his eyes.

"No matter where you go, no matter where you are, no matter how far you run, You will pay for this Italy. I swear, You. Will. Pay." America was gone after that, Germany buried little Ravënjuay and her father with the highest honors and wouldn't speak to Italy at all. He's always great faith and strength behind their Cause, but today? He'd never felt more in doubt.

Author's note: Okay so...REALLY sad chapter..sorry for being gone so long and there will be more soon!

Language notes:

_Sprechen Sie English?- _Do you speak English?

_Mon cher/ Cherie -_ My dear/ Lover

_Ja-_ Yes

_Hallo-_ Hello

_Was?_- What?


	3. Final

Okay my beloved, patient readers. As you well know, this fic has not updated in a very long time. This may be hard to take for some of you, but I'm in a new fandom now and I'm never going be able to give the fic the attention it needs.

However, I won't leave it unfinished, I will tell you the ending of our little story;

This f ic follows through the tragic events of everyday people with America, Germany and occasionally Japan or Italy witnessing and commenting not far behind. Germany knows how much power he holds in the fight and wishes to take it back, but his boss will not allow him. Not until after America is forced to bomb Japan.

America struggles with his inner self and how he feels about these wars he's fighting for the sake of good, for the sake of being a hero and wondering if human lives are worth it all. He starts to believe that these things should be settled between the countries themselves and not by how many dead humans one had. Italy pays for his discretions long after the war is over and None of the countries involved up to their ears easily forget the line of toy soldiers they'd sent to fight their battles and wounded themselves in the process.

War was easy Hell, and they vowed never to have such large-Scale warfare ever again.


End file.
